


I Can Transform You

by rebeccagrace_xo



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:54:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29245407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebeccagrace_xo/pseuds/rebeccagrace_xo
Summary: A story of teen angst and mental illness, conflicted love and rivalry, and strength and transformation. Written in first-person present tense from the points of view of the two protagonists.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 15
Kudos: 13





	1. The Bombshell

POV: Frank

You know those dodgy streets in any city that no poor bastard wants to live on? The area where all the crackheads gather to have their midnight group therapy, and if you’re lucky they don’t want to break into your house and tell you about it? That’s where my mum has spontaneously decided to move us to. My mother is a very exasperating woman. Right now she’s marching around me like a woman on a mission, packing up our house of my entire sixteen years into boxes while I follow and take everything back out of them. 

“We’ve been through this, Frank. We’re moving. Would you rather live on the streets?” she scoffs, snatching a box I’m about to unpack away from me. 

“We haven’t been through shit!”

THIS is how she tells me. Why couldn’t she just calmly sit down and go through an idea she has with me, considering it is one that is absolutely going to ruin my life?! No “I’m sorry, son” or EVEN “I have some big news, I’ve been seeing your arch enemy’s dad for a while now and I want us all to live together as one big happy family”??? ‘Arch enemy’ might be a slight exaggeration. But this right here – us literally MOVING HOUSE - is how I find out my mum has even been seeing someone and that’s one hell of an exaggeration. 

“You can’t do this, Linda!" First-naming her is sure to piss her off, but I can't quite bring myself to call her mum right now. "I won’t let you!”

“You won’t let me? I’m in charge around here, Frank. And it’s already been decided," she shrugs, as if this news is something boring and irrelevant. "The house is up for sale now." 

“Already?” My ears are getting very hot and my vision is doing that blurry thing again. “You’re just as crazy as Dad said you are!” 

She abruptly stops packing and turns around so fast she nearly loses her balance. “Do NOT mention your Dad to me when you’re the reason he is gone,” she hisses.

I can actually feel the rage spreading through my veins like a wildfire. I can’t breathe right. I’m going to punch her. I’m squaring up to her and she’s half my size, but not backing away, she’s just glaring up at me with her hands on her hips. Strong stance, but I detect the flash of fear in her eyes. My fists are clenched, ready and shaking. I start to swing then end up punching the wall as a half-assed attempt at self-control. I think I just broke my knuckles, but that doesn’t stop me grabbing her crappy glass vase from the mantelpiece and throwing it across the room. Linda gasps dramatically as it smashes against the back wall and shatters. 

I practically run out of the house. My vision only starts to return to normal once I am on my way to Lydia’s, driving my new BMW like a bit of a dickhead. But everyone else on the roads can fuck off.

*

POV Gerard:

“What do you think Dad’s big news is?” I turn to Mikey right next to me on the sofa. He is way too close and looks as bewildered as I feel. 

This isn’t like our dad. He’s not the theatrical type, and yet he’s called us in here for a ‘serious chat’ and seems to be elsewhere right now psyching himself up for this bizarre meeting. 

A look of dawning suddenly replaces the lost look on Mikey’s face. “I think I know...”

“Okay, what?” 

He bows his head gravely. Either they are staging a formal intervention into my pathetic life, or Mikey drank dad’s last beer and blamed it on me. 

“The thing is, Gee –“

“Okay, thanks both for coming,” my dad chooses Mikey’s confessional moment to makes his entrance, booming voice filling the crammed living room. 

Thanks for coming? As if we both made a special journey to be here. 

“Yeah, you’re welcome, dad,” I nod slowly, trying not to laugh because it is definitely not appropriate in this strange situation. But that just makes me want to laugh more. 

“I want to ask you both something rather important. Well, extremely important to all of us really. It’s about Linda. You know Linda? She’s so great and we, well, we’re doing so good together.” My Dad is babbling for the first time in history and it is wildly unsettling. He’s normally such a coherent man. “I was just wondering… how you would both feel about Linda and her son moving in with us?” he finishes by blurting out the quickest sentence ever, and it takes me a second to process it. 

“Moving in…” I repeat dumbly. My voice sounds far away. 

Linda Iero? Sure, I guess her and my dad have been serious for a while now, and she is welcome to live here if that’s what my dad wants. But her son??? I would rather live at sea than with that obnoxious prick. 

“So?” My dad presses. “What do you both think?”

God, so many things.

“Isn’t this house kind of small for all of us?” I point out, cleverly disguising my panic as rational concern. “I mean… I don’t even have a bedroom, I’m down in the basement.” 

Where the HELL is that unhinged moron going to sleep? 

“Well, that’s another thing,” he chuckles. “We don’t have much space. But I think we could make it work! Right? Her son would need to share the basement with you, Gerard, but it is certainly spacious enough for the both of you.”

Oh sure, the basement is big, it even has it’s own on-suite, but we need to factor in the size of Iero’s massive ego here too... Christ, I regret fighting Mikey for the bigger room. Maybe I could build a wall down the middle of the basement?

“Do you know her son Frank? He’s a senior at Belleville like you,” dad continues, oblivious to the hernia I am having.

If I launched into everything I know about Frank Iero right now, I know my dad would listen and call this whole thing off. But maybe that is too selfish of me. I mean, this isn’t really about me, or Iero. I can’t speak for LINDA, but my dad is so happy lately, and I’ll be damned if I’m the one that ruins this for him. He’s been alone and depressed ever since mum walked out on us four years ago. He’s always put me and Mikey first and never asks us for anything. And now he’s actually asking for something…

“Uh, yeah,” I speak flatly, “We know him.”

I swear I can literally hear Mikey swallow at this point. I shuffle away from him slightly and glance at him for some kind of helpful input here.

“He’s the most popular kid in school,” he states, all business-like suddenly. "He and Gerard don’t get on.”

I run my hand through my hair. It's mildly greasy. 

"Well, we’re not exactly best friends," I confirm, with the understatement of the year. "But that shouldn’t stop your girlfriend moving here, Dad.”

“Anyway, I'm sure Frank will just go live with his dad or girlfriend, won't he?” Mikey suggests very optimistically. 

Ah, a ray of light inside the dark hole I’m falling into. Please GOD...

“I don’t know about a girlfriend, but he doesn’t have a dad,” my dad shakes his head. This sentence hangs heavy in the air for moment before he seems to realise what he has just said. “Probably best you don’t mention that to anyone. Especially Frank.”

My mind is whirring with this new information. What happened to Frank's dad? Did he abandon him like my mother abandoned me and Mikey?

“Oh, boys. I’m so relieved you’re okay with this,” my dad gushes. I grimace. “Seems like it will be a good opportunity for you and Frank to bond,” he adds, looking at me. 

I think that ship sailed a long time ago, Dad. Then again, maybe we do have some tragic shit from our pasts in common… Who knows?

“There’s still a lot to sort out, these things take time. Linda needs to sell her house first, of course…”

My dad’s voice kind of fades away at this point and I’m back in the painful depths of my unruly mind. There’s something extremely satisfying about the thought of Iero finding out he’s coming to live with us; I can totally visualise his little temper tantrum. My life may be about to change, but my behaviour towards him is not going to. I'll just keep pretending he doesn’t exist and ignoring every insult he hurls at me. Standard day in the life of us.


	2. Humiliation Hype

POV: Gerard

Another thrilling day of school. Lunch time is always a special kind of hell in the cafeteria; all the cliques sit at their firmly designated tables, mine being the ‘nerds and losers’ table. What is up with society’s dumb need to label everything? Our peers act like me and my two friends are the worst people in the world - worse than Hitler or Donald Trump - because we like gaming and comics more than drugs and partying. I wish kids my age would grow up. If I didn’t have Ray and Bob, I’d have to hang out in the teachers’ lounge. 

“Hey!” Mikey greets us enthusiastically as he takes a seat on the bench close beside me. What is his problem with personal space? Seriously. He doesn’t usually sit with us. I’m not sure what special occasion today is. 

“Oh, hey. How’s Kim?” I ask, trying to muster up the same level of enthusiasm and failing spectacularly.

“Oh, we’re not talking right now,” he waves his hand dismissively as if it’s not a subject he cares to discuss, when CLEARLY it is the only reason he is here.

“Why not?” 

Mikey’s relationship stresses me out and I'm not even involved. 

“There’s a naked photo going round that she thinks I posted on the internet.” Mikey rubs his temple and I notice a vein in his forehead I have never noticed before today. 

“Why on earth would you do that?” Ray frowns.

“I’m afraid we’re going to need to see the evidence,” Bob pipes up. 

Mikey doesn’t even blink in acknowledgment of either comment, just stares at me expectantly. 

What exactly does he want from me here? I’ve never had a girlfriend in my life. Literally, I tried to speak to a girl once and got so stuttery and weird and ended up talking about the cheese and onion roll I was going to have for lunch. Never again. 

“I don’t get it. I didn’t do it, man.” Mikey puts his head in his hands. “How has anyone else got hold of that picture? Like, she must have sent it to someone, right?” 

I shrug wordlessly, eyes wide and blank. Helpful as ever. 

“Maybe her phone was hacked,” Ray offers. 

Mikey considers this point so deeply he says nothing for almost 30 seconds. “Who would do that?” he finally responds. 

He’s still a bit naïve when it comes to people at this school, despite how I get treated on a daily basis. That’s not the reality he lives in though; we go to different schools. He goes to one where he has no enemies and is well-liked by the ‘popular’ kids. I go to a school where I am the butt of every joke and some dickhead would absolutely hack my phone. Iero, probably. One of the many, many reasons I don’t take photos of my dick... Hang on. Has someone done this to Mikey on purpose, just because he’s related to me?

“Could be anyone in this shithole. Think about it, dude. If Kim is not talking to you because she thinks you did it, then she clearly didn’t leak it to anyone, did she?” Ray says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Me and Mikey stare at him blankly.

How nice it must be to be able to take everything people tell you at face value and believe them. I am sceptical of everyone. Mikey looks at me for my wise input here but all I can think is “she might be lying.” Although, what reason have I got to doubt his girlfriend? I don’t even know her. I’m just assuming she’s a bitch by who she associates with. She is a senior like me, but she’s in with the ‘popular kids’ so of course she doesn’t speak to me. I’m not sure she even knows I’m Mikey’s brother. 

“Look, Mikey, why don’t you just go and ask her what’s going on?” I respond bluntly. My brain can’t deal with this dilemma right now.

“Right. Yeah, great. Will do.” He stands up abruptly and stalks off. 

I wasn’t helpful at all and now I feel bad.

“That was weird,” Bob frowns after Mikey.

“I’m gonna shoot,” I say. “I’ll catch you guys in biology.” 

I very often cut my lunch short to go put my head down in the library for half an hour. I like to write. And I like time alone, away from all the noise and drama of high school. 

Iero sits on top of the table on the other side of the cafeteria but he sees all. As if the table is his throne and we are all peasants to be observed in a room he owns. He really has nothing better to do but taunt people like me. I’m definitely his favourite to toy with. How flattering. Kind of blame my dad for this.

“Eugene!” Iero shouts across to me as I stand up to leave. Right on cue. Eugene is my middle name, yes, how absolutely hilarious. “Off to the library to write a poem about being a creepy virgin with no testicles?”

Oh, a creative one. Well done, Iero. People around the quietening room start nudging each other in the ribs and hushing each other, excited for the daily bullying event. I know my options well: respond with “stop thinking about my testicles” and get battered right here in front of everyone by his rabid pitbull-type friends, or ignore him and keep walking to not escalate the situation. 

I can feel everyone’s scrutinising eyes on me as I continue walking, keeping my eyes fixed on the door of the cafeteria and my head held high. Next thing I know I’m falling forwards and my tray of food is clattering on the tiles with a deafening echo. Obviously held my head a bit too high because I failed to notice the exchange kid’s foot come out to trip me up. (Really though, Gok? You are more like me than Iero! We should be on the same team, damn it!)

The whole cafeteria erupts in laughter and applauding as I land on my hands and knees. 

"He's used to being in that position," one of Iero's cronies howls.

So much noise. I hate it here. I start to have an outer body experience where it feels like I am one of the many observers in the room, watching on as I get up and dust myself off emotionlessly. I feel lightheaded, but I keep walking. 

“Alright catch you later, roomie!” Iero shouts after me, earning a few more hollow laughs.

My heart drops into my stomach at this point and I pick up the pace. I think I’m going to be sick. I don’t make it very far from the cafeteria before Ray and Bob are either side of me, forcing me to a stop in the hallway.

“You okay?” Ray asks. Bob just claps a hand to my shoulder and gives it a squeeze in the silent but strong and supportive way that sums him up so accurately.

“Fed up of the same shit every fucking day, you?” 

“What did he mean by ‘roomie’?” Ray presses, staring into my goddamn soul.

I wasn’t planning on telling them my news yet. I was still processing it and trying to deal with it myself. I look past them both and begin to shrug. “Oh, who knows…”  


Their beady stares burn a hole in my face. I’m not getting away with lying here, am I? I sigh and beckon them with my hand, leading them somewhere slightly more private. The Boys' toilets. I feel like a 13 year-old girl that enjoys gossiping and causing drama.

“They’re moving in with us. Frank and his mum,” I reluctantly explain, looking around in paranoia. “I don’t know when exactly, my dad broke the news to me and Mikey last night.”

“Holy shit,” Bob says. For once in his life, Ray doesn't seem to be able to form any words at all.

“It’s going to be fine, probably. He’s going to be living in the basement with me, so what could POSSIBLY go wrong, eh?” I laugh nervously.

Their eyes widen and they exchange alarmed glances.

“What?” Ray shakes his head in disbelief. “How is that ever going to work? You’ll kill each other!”

“Or he’ll kill you in your sleep,” Bob adds, joining in with my nervous laughter.

They know I’m screwed.


	3. Moving Houses

POV Gerard:

Several weeks since Dad’s big announcement, and today is the joyous day. The day my life as I know it is over and never again will I know peace and quiet. Frank Iero is going to be everywhere I go: at school, at home, in my fucking bedroom... I can’t believe this is happening. Is it too late to tell my dad I think this is a bad idea? The removal van on our drive would probably say that it is. 

I can hear Frank shouting at the delivery man upstairs to be careful with his flatscreen TV. Carry your own shit then, you prick. I don’t even have a TV, we can't all be rich and spoilt by our parents. I won't hold my breath that Frank will even let me watch his TV. Not that he can really stop me.

“Gerard, can you come up here please? Lots of boxes to bring inside,” my dad yells down into the basement.

I stare at the basement window longingly. Hearing how much of a bad mood Frank is already in, I think my best move here would be to sneak out and spend the weekend somewhere far away while he settles in. No way my dad would go for that, though.

“Gerard?”

“Yes okay, coming,” I shout back. Jesus, how long was I staring at that window?

Emerging from the basement like a zombie that's never seen daylight is obviously a good look for me, judging by Frank's amused reaction to my appearance. I notice one of his hands is wrapped in a bandage, but that's a common occurrence. Ten quid says he punched a wall and broke his hand again. Kid’s got a strange grievance with walls.

“Hi,” I say, a bit dumbly. Like, why am I even bothering?

He rolls his eyes and storms past me, down into the basement. So that went rather well, I think.

“Hello lovie,” Frank’s mum greets me breathlessly. She is quite a small, round lady and she is definitely carrying a box that is too big for her. I can’t even see her behind it.

“Hi Linda. Uh, here, I got it.” I spring forward and take the load from her. Then, nearly lose my balance and collapse under the sheer weight of what I can only assume is a box of bricks.

“Thanks, dear!” Thankfully, she runs off to grab another box so she doesn't have to witness me struggling with it.

I’ve only met her a few times, but she seems like a nice woman. But that doesn't really make sense, since she produced a mental kid like Frank. Maybe his nature is down to his father… I dunno but something fucked him up a treat.

Unsure where I’m supposed to be putting the box, I take it into the living room and set it down on the sofa next to Mikey.

“Yeah, that’s alright Mikey, you just put your feet up. Shall I give you a foot massage too?”  
He only looks up from his phone when I push his feet off the coffee table. “What?”

“Get off your ass!”

“Alright, don’t get your cape in a twist,” he mutters, getting to his feet.

“It’s not a cape, it’s a poncho.”

“Ah.” He nods sarcastically. “Much better.”

*

An hour later, I finally manage to escape from the bustling upstairs of my house and retreat back to my basement lair. My body feels like it's just been beaten with a baseball bat, Christ, that was too physical. All that lifting and squatting was very close to being exercise. I need a fucking shower.

I am greeted by Frank’s arse in the air and his head in my drawers. I drop his box of crap in the doorway and storm over to him. I forget who we both are for a second.

“Uh, what the hell are you doing?”

This is the first time I have spoken to Iero in years. He mocks me on a daily basis, but I never respond.

He startles at the sound of my voice and straightens up fast, then kicks my drawer closed and smirks. 

“Just looking around my new room,” he shrugs, coming closer like he’s about to square up to me.

His eyes lock on mine and I can actually feel any previous confidence being sucked from me. I always try to avoid meeting his eyes because they fucking unnerve me. They are so full of hate and darkness, I feel like I might turn into stone. I swallow and take a step backwards, out of pure common sense. I can’t seem to speak, but I hold his eye contact at least. I feel like Harry Potter holding a connection with Voldemort here. 

“You dropped my stuff, Eugene,” he says. His voice is uneven, much like his brain.

He finally looks away and focuses on the box I dropped in the doorway.

“I… oh. Did I?” 

Why do I feel like he is literally going to kill me for this? It was an accident! I’m a klutz, calm the heck down, Ted Bundy!

I stand there, slightly dumbfounded, as he heads over to the sacred box. Without a word, he bends down and looks inside. What is so damn important in that box? My curiosity is spiking but I daren’t move or speak. With his good hand, he pulls out what looks like a photo frame and inspects it for a moment. I can’t see what the photo is of, but I’m guessing that glass photo frame it's in has seen better days.

“You broke it,” he confirms flatly, without looking up.

I should probably run at this point, before he breaks something of mine in return. Such as my nose.

“I’m… shit. Sorry.” 

Did I just say “I’m shit, sorry” to a guy that’s been telling me I’m shit for years? What is wrong with me?

He exhales shakily and turns his back on me, putting the photo frame back in the box. 

“You’re paying for that,” he mutters. 

I can literally feel his anger; I know he wants to shout at me, so why isn’t he? He’s going to self-combust if he’s not careful. 

“Of course, uh, how much was it?”

He gives me a weird look. Like he can’t figure out if I’m joking or not. Yes, I know we hate eachother, but I just broke something of yours, so I should fix it out of common decency? Not everyone is as much of an asshole as you.

“Forget it," he grunts. Alright, make up your mind.

I rub my neck and try to think of something, anything, to respond with. I got nothing. I am the definition of gormless right now and I want to leave, but he is still standing in the doorway.

“You don’t say a lot, do you?” He frowns at me. 

Oh, I’m sorry, are we supposed to be chatting excitedly about being roomies?

“What is there to say?” I frown back, confused.

He shakes his head and starts to walk further into the basement. His eyes keep darting back to mine to check I’m still doing nothing, as he approaches my bed and SITS ON IT. 

“That’s my bed,” I inform incredulously. What is WRONG with him? First my drawers, now my bed. This dude has ZERO boundaries.

“Uh huh. Have you ever had a girl in it?” he smirks.  
The question catches me off-guard and I can feel the blood rushing to my pale cheeks. 

“Didn’t think so,” he continues, when I fail to answer. Yes, very funny, I’m a sixteen year-old virgin. Grow the fuck up. “Have you ever even had a girlfriend?” 

“Why do you care?” I shoot back, starting to get angry. Boy, he knows how to wind me up. 

He smirks and holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Just making conversation, Eugene.”

“No, you’re not? You’re just looking for new things to insult me about.” I don’t know where my sudden confidence to answer-back has come from. The adrenaline I guess.

“Alright, you don’t need to cry about it, Jesus Christ,” he snaps, making me feel like I’m the crazy one here. 

He’s the one winding me up then mocking me for getting wound up! Fuck this. I grab my jacket from the sofa and head for the stairs. I’m not indulging his lunacy right now.

“Wow, your comebacks need some work,” he smirks, and something inside of me just snaps.

“Why are you such a fucking asshole?” I stop halfway up the stairs and he is watching me like a hawk. “Seriously, whatever happened to you must be a hell of story.”

It feels good to give him a piece of my mind for once. I’m not giving him a chance to explode on me though, I am out of the basement before he can even form a response. 

“Gerard? What was that all about?” My dad appears from fucking nowhere, looking at me in disbelief. Of course he hears the ONE time I actually respond to Iero’s verbal abuse. 

“Uh. Nothing. Sorry,” I apologise quickly, but I already know I’m screwed. My dad doesn’t deal well with swearing or arguments. He had enough of that when my mum was around.

“I want you to go and apologise to Frank right now.” He folds his arms in that parent-that-means-serious-business way.

This cannot be happening. Maybe it’s time to come clean about mine and Iero’s hatred for eachother...

“Dad, listen..."

“ _Now_ , Gerard! I’m not having that kind of hostility in my house.” Oh man, he really has no idea what he has let himself in for by inviting Frank Iero into our house.

The injustice of the situation is hard to stomach. But I don’t particularly want to be grounded and forced to stay in the basement with Iero due to my ‘poor behaviour’. I’d rather do what my dad wants and get the hell out of here. My chest feels tight as I return to the basement with my dad in close pursuit.

“Frank, uh, listen,” I begin, before he is in my view, just trying to hide behind the banister instead of facing him. My dad pushes me in the back, ushering me forward down the stairs. 

Frank is exactly where I left him, on my bed, but he is holding that photo frame from before. He startles (again) at the intrusion and practically throws it to the end of my bed, like he’s trying to pretend he wasn’t just staring at it. My dad and I exchange uncertain glances. What’s with the shifty behaviour, Slim Shady? My dad nudges me in the ribs. 

“Oh yeah, I’m sorry,” I blurt out without thinking. Oh good, that sounded sincere. “For what I said before? I shouldn’t have said that…”

I fully expect him to seize this chance to insult me and reject my apology, in fact I hope for it, because I want my dad to see the real him. That trademark smirk of his and cold, empty eyes. But sod’s law, he seems to be right in the middle of an existential crisis, and for once, he seems vulnerable and… broken. I understand nothing here.

He clears his throat and replies in a small, different voice, “It’s fine.”

IS it? You don't seem fine to me… In fact, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have been crying.

“Are - are you okay?” I ask, again without thinking. I’m just a bit weirded out by all this.

“I’m fine,” he snaps in a razor-sharp voice that sounds much more like his. Okay, clearly that sentimental moment of emotion is over. 

He jumps to his feet so quickly it makes me recoil slightly, and then he’s coming straight towards my dad and I at the bottom of the stairs. I realise we are blocking his exit and that’s not very smart of us, because I know he’d have no issue pushing me out the way. But surely he won’t be stupid enough to do it in front of my dad? Hell, the way he’s storming over, I think he’s going to push my dad too...

My dad and I do the sensible thing and step aside. He’s gone in record speed, leaving us blinking after him. Then, my dad turns to me and says, “That boy is obviously very sensitive, Gerard. I need you to be nicer to him, do you hear?” I want to laugh at that statement, but for some reason, I can’t. Up until this moment, I would have found it hilarious that someone could use the word sensitive to describe Frank… now I’m not so sure. I mean, sure, anger is an emotion he visibly has too much of, but I've never seen him CRY before. Does he have a soul after all?


	4. The Insight

POV Frank:

As if Eugene and his dad just caught me crying. No one has ever seen me cry - I don’t cry about anything, and I don’t need Eugene thinking I’m some kind of emo kid in the closet. He probably thinks I was crying over his little bitch comeback. That comment he made about hearing my ‘story’ was weird as fuck and totally uncalled for when I was only trying to talk to the prick. I’m not sure who exactly he thinks he is, or if he’s forgotten who I am, but people don’t say shit like that to me.

Eugene is so opposite to me, he grinds my gears too much. I can’t see this living arrangement lasting too long. I will straight up hit the streets with a sleeping bag if Donald is anywhere near as annoying and stuck-up as Eugene. Linda wouldn’t bat an eyelid at my absence, of course. But it's all good, soon it will be summer and I will graduate and get my inheritance money, then me and Lydia can get out of here.

“Ooh boy, that photo of Kim though.” I hear James’ voice but I am in a smoke cloud of weed and can’t actually see him. "She is hot as fuck, man."

“Yeah, she’s pretty hot,” I agree. There's a moment of silence where I'm pretty sure we are all picturing the topless photo again. “Who leaked it?”  


If someone leaked a photo like that of Lydia, I’d kick the shit out of them. Kim is her best mate, and when Lydia’s upset, I get it in the neck. She got pissy with me just because I’d seen it, so basically just annoyed at me for having eyes. I’m like right in the middle of this shit and I don’t wanna be. I also live with Kim’s boyfriend now. Eugene’s brother. Mysterious fucking Mikey. Kid’s like a ninja, I never even see him around. You’d think he’d just hang out with his Batkid brother, The Muscle and Afro, but no. I guess he realises how lame they are.  


“Dunno,” Matty replies. I can hear the smirk on his face and it annoys me, but I can't get wound up. Weed chills me out too much, but I will find out who did it, and they will pay because that is only fair: an eye for an eye, a dick for a tit.

“Stick the game on, will you?” James pipes up, cracking open his can of Stella.  


Matty does as he's told. God forbid James misses the match.

"So, how's Eugene's house?" Matty asks, and chucks me a much-needed beer.

"Small as fuck. I have no clue how we are all supposed to live there. Eugene sleeps in the fucking basement and I'm down there with him."

Matty chokes on his beer. "You two are sharing a room?" He starts cracking up and I start to see the funny side of it all myself, for the first time. Must be the weed.

"Yeah man. What the fuck am I going to do?" I laugh. 

"PASS THE BALL, YOU PENIS! OH COME ON, REF!" James shouts at the TV, oblivious to any conversation happening over the football.

"Oh mate, we can mess with him in so many new ways," Matty smirks.

*  


POV: Gerard

The weekend passes in unexpected peace. Frank never returned after storming out Friday night; I can only assume he’s too embarrassed to see me again after I saw him crying. Probably the most awkward moment of both of our lives. The thing is, I know he was most likely upset about his dad, and I’m not dead inside, I feel for the dude. It sucks losing a parent, I know that pain all too well. But it's also hard to have sympathy for him.  


My laptop finishes loading and I can finally join Bob and Ray in the Warcraft World. “Hey,” I greet, planting my headset firmly on my head. I get back a “hey man” and “what’s up, Gee?” before there’s a knock on the basement door. Impeccable timing from someone. Please not Frank... The door is opening before I can respond and heeled shoes are plonking down the rickety wooden stairs. Unless Frank’s had a particularly fantastic weekend, I’m assuming it’s his mum.  


“Gerard, my dear.” It is. 

She has a long, floaty black dress on and pearls because Sunday is date night with my dad. Personally, I think Saturday would make more sense, but my dad likes to stay in and watch those bad television shows no self-respecting human should be watching.  


“I’m getting worried about Frank. He won’t answer my calls. Have you heard from him?” I’m sorry, was that a glimmer of hope in her voice?  


“Me? No. He doesn’t – we don’t. No,” I respond, suddenly unable to form sentences longer than two words.  


“I know you two aren’t friends.”  


“You do?” I frown. I guess my dad filled her in already.  


“I do, and I’m sorry we’ve moved into your house like this. I know it must be tough. But Frank is… he's... I'm sorry he gives you a hard time, he’s not a well boy, Gerard. And he’s not safe when he goes off the rails then disappears like this for days at a time." She hesitates and hangs her head in what seems to be shame. "I guess what I’m trying to ask is, that you please look out for him. You’re a good kid, Gerard. I know you are, because your dad is a good man. And I think all of you, Mikey as well, could be a really positive role model on Frank.”  


Not well? Not safe when he disappears? What is he, a fucking werewolf? I can plainly see he is a hazard to himself and others, but I wouldn't mind hearing the gory details before I even consider ‘helping’ him. Why on earth does Linda even think he needs someone to look out for him? He seems like he knows what he's doing well enough, and no one in their right mind would ever cross him.  


“I, uh. Right. Thanks," I fumble for words. “What do you mean, he's not well?"

She sighs. "He still struggles a lot with the death of his father."

Yes, I noticed. I've seen the photo of his dad in the broken photo frame. There’s something mildly terrifying about him but I can’t put my finger on it and I feel badly for thinking ill of the dead. He just looks a bit vacant in the eyes. The photo is of a kid I assume is Frank, I’d guess around seven, holding hands with a heavily-tattooed man with messy brown hair. They bear no resemblance to each other except for the chiselled jawline. It’s not even a nice photo, they both look grumpy and they’re stood in what appears to be a swamp. Why on earth was that a moment worth taking, let alone framing? 

I must wonder, if that man was Linda’s type, how the hell is my dad also her type? My dad is a book-smart, religious man who raised me and Mikey to be catholic. I’m actually agnostic now, but the poor bloke doesn’t need to know that.  


Linda suddenly starts to have a little moment, waving her hand in front of her eyes as if to stop herself crying and ruining her make-up. I'm so intrigued and I want to know how the man died, but I feel guilty for prying now. Even though she brought the subject up.  


“I’m sure Frank is fine. Probably just with his girlfriend,” I try to comfort her.  


“Oh, Lydia. Yeah. God, she’s a right one,” she sniffs and rolls her eyes.  


I can’t help but grin at her reaction. This woman seems like a good judge of character. She knows her son is fucked up and his girlfriend is a preppy drama queen, at least.  


“Yes, well… I’m sure I’ll see him at school tomorrow, so don’t you worry.” I, on the other hand, will worry greatly. "Enjoy your evening."

She smiles weakly and heads back up the stairs. I return to my laptop and realise Bob and Ray will have heard that entire conversation, so I don't need to decide whether to tell them or not.  


“Whoa, that was heavy,” Ray speaks first.  


“So what, are you Frank Iero’s carer now?” Bob asks.  


“That was fucking weird, right?” I mumble as the game begins to load again.  


I think it is safest to choose distance and ignorance here. Shame I won't be able to keep much distance once he returns from his weekend adventure. I can’t help him. He needs a trained therapist who has the eternal answer for anger management. I know there are no quick fixes with stuff like this, because I am yet to find a therapist that has the answer for depression. I’ve only spoken to two, against my will and forced by my dad, and I don’t see the purpose of complaining about your life with a total stranger you are literally paying to listen to you. Like, that right there is the problem.  


“Don’t either of you repeat that shit. Frank will kill me in my sleep."


	5. The Rejection

POV: Frank

The hype about the naked photo of Kim is starting to die down now, but I’m still clueless about the culprit. Lydia is still being off with me and not replying to my messages and it’s winding me up a treat. She’s at cheerleading practice right now and I plan to gatecrash. She can’t just ignore me. We’re going to talk about this.

I slam my locker and suddenly find myself face-to-face with Eugene. I recoil because it’s creepy as hell, he is literally less than a metre away. How long has he been standing there? 

“What the fuck, dude?” I break the silence.

I look around the empty corridor wildly for someone filming this. It’s a prank, right? Who gave him permission? The coast is clear because lunch is over and everyone has already gone to their lessons. 

“You know, you should tell your mum where you’re going next time you skip out like that. She’s been worried sick.”

It comes as a shock that he can even talk, since he’s usually mute, let alone have the downright nerve to invade my personal space and chat absolute bullshit about my mum. 

“I highly doubt that,” I scoff. My mum doesn’t care about anyone but herself. “Why aren’t you in English?”

I am skiving class on purpose, but Eugene has no business being away from the teacher’s butthole. Mr Harris thinks I could learn a thing or two about manners and intelligence from Eugene, so he put me right next to him in the seating plan. What an absolute wank-stain. I haven’t been to his lesson since.

“Why aren’t you?” Eugene shrugs, as if he’s not a good two-shoes idiot dying inside because he’s missing class. He’s not fooling me.

“What do you want, you creep?” I am unnerved and it’s not an emotion I deal well with.

He sighs and pulls his backpack round to open it, without a word. Like, what’s with the dramatic build-up? For a brief second, I think he’s going to get a gun out. He strikes me as the type. But it’s not a gun, it’s a photo frame.

“What have you done?” My voice is a little smaller than usual.

“I got you a new one. For breaking your other one,” he explains impatiently, handing it to me.

I inspect it closely. This feels like some kind of weird joke I don’t get. There’s no photo in it, but the frame is the exact same. Where the hell did he find this? I didn’t expect him to actually go out and buy me a new one. Why would he do something nice for me when he hates me and knows I hate him? Is he trying to make me look bad or is he just THAT scared of me?

“Why would you do that?” I demand. 

"I felt bad for breaking your other one. You seemed pretty upset about it," he replies, without looking at me. 

“Right,” I frown, feeling a flash of hot in my cheeks. “I wasn’t upset.”

“Right. Well… you’re welcome.” He rolls his eyes and starts to walk off. Without fully realising what I am doing, I grab him by the arm and force him to stop.

“Thanks,” I blurt out, letting go of his arm like it has caught fire. 

He looks dumbly at his jacket where I held onto him and then at me with a bewildered expression. He doesn’t say anything else, just nods slowly and starts to leave again. This time I don’t pull him back, because what the fuck did I do that for? That was embarrassing. Still, this time Eugene doesn’t get very far either, because he spots Matty and James at the end of the corridor. And here I am still standing here holding the photo frame like a lemon. Great, WHY are they here now? 

“Well, looky who we have here!” James grins. 

Matty looks between me and Eugene like he’s waiting for an explanation for us being in the same place at the same time and not fighting. We both remain rooted to the spot, paralysed like we have just been caught making out or something. (Gross, why did that thought even enter my psyche?)

Panicking, I spring into action and shove the photo frame into Eugene’s chest. “Kissing my ass will not make you popular,” I declare loudly, because I can’t accept this in front of Matty and James, what the fuck. This could not look any weirder. 

Eugene glares at me for a second before dramatically throwing the photo frame on the floor, causing a high-pitched clattering on the tiles. It takes me so by surprise I actually jump. I’m like a nervous wreck all of a sudden, what IS this?

“Oi, calm it, Eugene,” James warns, squaring up to him as he tries to leave, blocking his exit. 

“Fuck off,” he tells James and then shoves him hard. 

Eugene. Shoves. James. 

“Hey, whoa,” I say, jumping in between them. What the hell is going on? I have never seen Eugene angry before.

“Get out of the way,” James shoves me and I fall backwards into my locker.

“What the fuck?” I can feel the anger building up and I know this isn’t going to end well. I look to Matty for back up but he just shakes his head at me like he's warning me not to explode.

“This is between them, Frank. Stand back,” he advises. He knows I like a good fight and so does James, and in the past, we have gone a few rounds on each other.

I stand back and try to count my breaths. James has Eugene on the floor and he is kicking him in the stomach and groin, and I am shaking from the addrenaline. This whole situation is super messed up; the bloody kid just did a nice thing for me and I threw it back in his face, and now my friend is pummelling him into the ground. 

“Was this fag giving you hassle, Frank?” James asks in between kicks. 

“Doesn’t look like hassle,” Matty responds before I can, moving the broken photo frame with his shoe. “Looks like a gift.” He stares at me with suspicious eyes.

James stops abruptly. “Excuse me?”

Eugene groans and clutches his stomach. There is a lot of blood but I can’t tell if it’s from his nose or mouth. He needs a fucking medic.

“Jesus Christ,” I exhale shakily, checking over my shoulder in paranoia. I don’t want to get caught, this is so bait. “We need to go. Come on.”

I can’t bring myself to look back at Eugene or say another word. Part of me wants to help him to his feet and check he’s okay, but I don’t know why, because he embarrassed me in front of my friends. And yet I feel bad, guilty, and confused as fuck by my sudden split personality. 

The three of us duck out of the building with our heads down, heading for our usual hang-out behind the bike shed.

“You wanna explain what that was all about?” Matty begins his interrogation, slumping against the wall. “Why did he give you a photo frame?”

“I don’t know,” I snap, frustrated. “He’s a fucking weirdo.” James and Matty exchange sceptical glances. They’re not buying it. “Look, he broke mine the other night and I told him to replace it, alright? I didn’t think he actually would, and I didn’t actually want him to, but there we go,” I rant, sparking up a cigarette.

I still don’t understand why he did this. What possessed him?

“Maybe he secretly loves you,” James offers, and I throw my lighter at his head. “Ow!”

“Hmm. Weird. Maybe he wants to get in your good books and get a taste of popularity?” Matty suggests with a devilish smirk. “We could give him that, you know.”

James and I stare at him blankly. He’s going somewhere, we’re just not sure where yet.

“We could make him think he’s one of us for a few weeks, get all the dirt on him, then drop him on his ass and reveal his secrets to the whole school. How jokes would that be?” 

James starts slow-clapping it out and Matty looks overly pleased with himself. There is a massive gaping flaw in the plan as far as I’m concerned. Also, are we 13 year-old girls? Making him believe we’re his friends JUST to throw it all back in his face? That is a whole new level of harsh, even for us. I would have been all over this plan if it was suggested to me days ago. Now, I’m not so sure. 

“As if Eugene is going to be like ‘you guys have been beating me up for years, cool, let’s be best friends!’,” I reply, doing my best snotty impression of him.

“Well, I’m sure you could find a way to gain his trust, Frankie boy. He obviously likes you, since he goes around buying you presents,” James pipes up. I wish I had another lighter to throw at him.

“You know, after what just happened, I doubt Eugene is my biggest fan. I think I probably blew my chance of being his best friend when I shoved his present back in his face and let you beat him up.” I take an extra long drag on my cigarette.

“Let me?” James scoffs.

“Aw, what’s the matter, Frank? Worried about breaking your boyfriend’s heart?” Matty mocks, making James snicker even more. 

My cheeks are getting hot again. Why am I blushing like a little girl? This shit is not funny.

“Hilarious. I just personally do not want to hang around with Eugene and I don’t get why you two do.” 

“Dude. You live in a basement with him. You’re gonna be hanging around with him whether you want to or not,” Matty shrugs. “It’ll be funny. Why are you being such a pussy?” 

“He’s going soft on us, because he’s getting hard for Gerard!” James laughs, and something inside of me finally snaps.

I swing for James, but he dodges my punch and shoves me for the second time today. I am riled up and really want to wipe that smirk off his face, but Matty gets in between the two of us in record speed.

“Can you two take a fucking Xanax, please?” he snaps. 

James started it, but he shrinks back first, so I follow his lead.

“Just stop with that homo shit already.”

“Didn’t realise you’re on your period, man, my bad,” he holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“So, you’re in?” Matty jumps back in the conversation. “Operation: Transform Eugene?” 

For fuck sake. 

“Whatever man.” I give up. This plan will never work in a million years anyway.


	6. The Truce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: self-harm

**POV: Gerard**

Frank Iero is going to hell and I am not being dragged down for the ride with him. I don’t care if he’s ‘not well’ Linda, that is not my fucking problem and I learnt my lesson trying to be nice to him. That asshole wouldn’t recognise a genuine person trying to help if they saved him from a burning building. I’m done trying because HE is the burning building in this scenario and I’m not getting burnt like that again. I’m never speaking to that motherfucker again.

I didn’t stick around at school after Iero’s sidekick beat the living shit out of me while he stood and watched. I’m not one for skipping class, but I already skipped English to speak to Iero so I figured I may as well head home and bleed in private. It’s been a good year since Iero’s mates have actually laid a hand on me. Iero himself has never; he’s weak and hides behind his 'bodyguard' mates. I inspect my battered face in the bathroom mirror. It looks painful, but it doesn’t feel it. My lip is a deep purple colour and swollen as fuck. There is dried blood under my nose but my nose doesn’t feel broken, miraculously. That happened last time, so I made sure to protect my nose more this time, and of course my skull because I know it would never occur to that big oaf with one brain cell that kicking me in the head could literally kill me.

What have I EVER done to Iero and his mates that justifies them doing this to me? I can’t help but think there’s something seriously wrong with me. There must be, like why else would everyone hate me so much? Hell, even my own mother hated me enough to run away.

I feel sick, but I can’t cry. I haven’t for about ten years. Instead, I find myself reaching inside the cabinet for my razor; my old friend I can always count on to make me feel something, even if it is physical pain and not emotions… It makes me feel less dead inside. I dismantle the razor, pulling one of the blades out with trembling fingers, and lift my jumper to expose the pale rolls of my stomach. I live in oversized hoodies and I’m pretty sure I’ll be a virgin forever, so no danger of anyone seeing the scars. I line the blade up against my hip carefully and watch myself in the mirror as I cut. I don’t even wince at the stinging sensation. God, I enjoy this shit too much. I let out a sigh of relief as the blood trickles out. My school trousers are already covered in blood so this extra bit doesn’t matter, I’ll stick them in the wash in a minute.

I close my eyes and do it again. And again. Then, out of nowhere, I hear his voice.

“Oh my God!”

The blade slips from my grasp and lands on the tiled floor with a metallic clatter. My eyes snap open and I see him in the mirror first, but I am unsure if I am imagining him being here. Because how can he be? No one is home, it’s the middle of the day!

“What the fuck?” I spin around, disorientated and tugging at my jumper to cover myself up. He looks pretty real and he’s just standing there gawking at me. “Get out!” Fucking hell, what does he want?

“Dude,” he begins, eyes wide and hands held up like he’s surrendering to a fight before it even begins.

“Take a picture!”

I lunge forward and shove him hard enough that he backs out of the bathroom and I can slam the door locked in his face. Then I collapse in a heap on the floor.

**POV: Frank**

Holy shit, that was fucked up. Why did he _do_ that? I’m shaking, but for once it’s not anger that I feel. It’s shame. This is my fault.

“Gerard?” I speak in a low, hesitant voice, refusing to move from outside the bathroom. “Look, man, open up. I don’t want a picture.” Was he serious about that? Why would I want a photo of him covered in blood? The mental image of him and that razor is already burned into my retinas for life. “Look, I just want to know you’re okay.” What am I saying? Of course he’s not okay. You don’t cut yourself if you’re okay, but what the fuck else am I supposed to say here? I can’t even leave him alone after seeing that.

“I’m sorry!” My voice is getting louder and more frantic. Without really even thinking about what I’m doing, I bang on the door and make myself jump. It obviously startles him too, because the door finally swings open.

“What the fuck do you care?” he demands, trying to act tough but he is a blinding mess.

I feel so bad I could throw up. I guess what I really want here is him to ease my guilty conscience.

“I - I just… shit, man. I didn’t realise. I... I don’t understand.” Well, that made loads of sense. I take a deep breath. “Is this because of what happened at school today? Because I’m sorry about that, Eug- I mean Gerard. Fuck.” I’m babbling. Gerard doesn’t blink or show any inkling of emotion. I bury a hand in my hair out of pure awkwardness and keep going. “I’m sorry, okay? What James did… after what _you_ did, for me… that was fucked up and I didn’t mean for it to go down like that.”

I wanted to accept the photo frame he bought me, I just couldn’t. And that was not cool.

“Okay, great. You’re sorry,” he nods, tone flat. He’s not shouting or dismissing me, but I can tell he doesn’t forgive me by the look of repulsion in his eyes.

For some reason, I can’t just leave shit here and go. It's like all the times I've mocked him without remorse are suddenly catching up with me.

“I was coming to apologise when I… when you… God, what are you doing hurting yourself like that?” I blurt out. As if James beating him up wasn’t enough physical pain for one day though.

“You’re going to pretend you never saw that, Iero, and we’re going to go back to hating each other’s guts,” he speaks boldly, and how the fuck is he more composed than me right now?

“Trust me, I wish I _hadn’t_ seen that... But I did, and that’s not something I can just forget.” I need to make this right.

“Well, what do you suggest?” he frowns. “You want to find me a therapist or something? Because you should find yourself one while you’re at it.”

The venom in his words actually stings a little and I’m taken aback that something he says could have that impact on me. Especially when his words make absolutely no sense.

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?” He’s projecting. I don’t need a therapist, I’m not the one self-harming here.

“The only _reason_ I was being nice to you and got you that damn photo frame in the first place, is because your mum said you’re _sick in the head!_ So don’t stand there and pity me, Iero. I took pity on you first.”

My mum said _what?_ I back up a little and turn away from Gerard. I’m trying not to get angry, but that shit cut deep. My heart is a hammer.

“I don’t pity you. And I’m not ‘sick in the head’,” I use air quotes and force a laugh. “My mum doesn’t know what the fuck she’s talking about, so don’t start thinking you do.”

Who the fuck does Linda think she is, going round telling my enemies I’m mentally ill? Might as well broadcast on Facebook everything that happened with my Dad while she’s at it. Why not? Share the trauma with every fucker and their nan.

“I don’t really care what she’s talking about.” The curious look in his eyes contradicts his words. “In fact, i’ll never bring _that_ up again, as long as you never bring _this_ up again."

Ah, a truce. He looks deadly serious. I want to keep probing about his self-destructive behaviour, but I consider the possibility of him spreading my mum’s words around the school and my heart plummets.

“Fine.”

We nod at each other, awkward and tense, then I rush back down the stairs and out the house.

That is a binding contract. If he breaks it, I'll break his nose.


	7. The Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: MARIJUANA USE

**POV: Frank**

I can’t stomach the thought of sleeping in this basement with Gerard tonight, so I asked my girlfriend if I could stay at hers. She always stayed over mine before we moved, so I figured it would be cool for me to stay at hers this one time. Nope, totally not cool with her mum. I swear that woman thinks I’m the biggest dickhead in town.

“Hey.” James answers his phone, super delayed as ever. It's been ringing for about two minutes. “Can’t talk Frank, I’m with you-know-who,” he adds in a hushed tone then snickers.

Am I supposed to know who he’s talking about? And what the hell happened to bros before hoes?

“You-know-who? Voldemort?“

“Catch you tomorrow, man,” he whispers, then hangs up.

Gerard looks up from his laptop on the sofa across the room at the sound of my spoken voice, and I realise it’s been pure silence in this basement for seven years and I've just randomly said “you-know-who, Voldemort” out loud. He gives me a weird look then goes back to his computer game.

I punch in Matty’s number on my phone. I’m running out of people and getting pissed off now.

“Hey Frank,” Matty answers, just as slowly as James. He sounds weird and breathless.

“Hey. What you doing?”

“Oh, just. Out on a run,” he says a bit too quickly.

“Why are you and James acting so weird?” I demand. “Who the fuck is you-know-who and are you _jerking off_ right now _?”_

He never goes running. I’ve stayed at Matty’s the last three nights and I’m officially getting just as sick of him as I am Eugene.

“Fuck knows and fuck _no_ ,” he snorts. “I gotta go.”

Awesome, my second friend to hang up on me in the space of two minutes. Thanks lads, appreciate the support. My phone flies across the room as a result of my frustration.

“Trouble in popularity-paradise?” Eugene asks, and I notice my phone has landed awkwardly near to his foot. He leans forward to pick it up.

“Don’t touch that,” I warn, getting to my feet.

He sighs and pushes his laptop aside to get up too. “Alright, keep your ‘Nikes’ on, I wasn’t going to do anything with it.”

I walk over to him and he holds out my phone for me to take. 

“By the way, I think you’re right. I think you-know-who _is_ Voldemort,” he says like a smart-ass.

I snatch my phone with a roll of my eyes. “Cool, so James is fucking Voldemort. Glad you cracked the case.” 

“Wait. James is fucking _Voldemort,_ or James is _fucking_ Voldemort?” he cocks an eyebrow. Is that supposed to be funny? He looks bemused.

“Well, I don’t mean it as an insult, do I? He’s shagging I-don’t-know-who.”

Eugene frowns and opens his mouth to speak but I don’t let him. “Don’t. This is the dumbest conversation anyone has ever had.”

I don’t want to talk about the fact that my best mate is being a secretive weirdo. I return to my corner of the basement and flop back onto my blow-up double bed. Silence consumes us once more. Eugene goes back to playing his game and I stare at the cracks in the ceiling. This place seems even older than my house. I wish I was back home now smoking a zoot with my girlfriend, in the privacy of my own room, where we could watch a trippy film and have sex all night. But no, I’m here on the floor of an enemy’s dingy basement-bedroom, watching the room grow darker than hell as the evening passes at a torturous pace.

“Yeah, he’s here,” Eugene suddenly mutters, talking into his headset. “Literally nothing.”

“What’s up, fags?” I shout over to him and his mates.

Don’t fucking talk about me like I’m not here.

*

It’s midnight when Eugene finally stops playing his dumb game and turns his bedside lamp out. The room is pitch darkness until I flick my lighter on and deeply inhale my spliff.

“You can’t smoke down here,” Eugene groans through the darkness.

“Oh, go to sleep.” I take another long drag, savouring the feeling of the smoke filling my lungs and the weed going to my head.

Much to my annoyance, the lamp goes back on and Eugene is sitting up in his bed just _watching me_. “My dad hates drugs.” 

“Your dad does, or you do?” I exhale slowly. 

“I’ve never tried drugs,” he replies, taking an interest in his own hands.

I don’t even have the energy to mock him right now. I feel all tingly and relaxed. Without moving from my horizontal slump, I hold out my spliff to him.

“Try it.”

**POV: Gerard**

Everything inside me is telling me not to take the spliff from Frank. So, naturally, I walk over and take it. 

“Christ, you’re easy to influence.” His tone isn’t as harsh as usual, for once in his life he seems more surprised and amused than angry.

“I’m open to shit,” I correct. “It’s not like a swore an oath against drugs, just haven’t had the opportunity before.”

I don’t have the kind of friends that are into this. Ray would straight up have a panic attack if he knew I was smoking weed, let alone _with Frank Iero_. So would my dad. He’s strongly against me or Mikey taking drugs or drinking alcohol. I’m not trying to defy my dad, I respect the dude, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

“I respect that,” Frank says, and we look at each other uncertainly for a second.

I’ve never even smoked a cigarette, so this shit is brand new to me. I try to copy what I’ve seen people do in films, inhaling the spliff and holding it in my lungs for as long as I can before coughing it out. Frank smirks at my amateur attempt.

“Shit’s weird,” I conclude, clearing my throat.

I offer it back to him but he refuses.

“Have one more toke. Don’t inhale so quickly this time.”

Hovering near his bed awkwardly, I do as I’m told. This time I don’t cough and I can feel myself going a bit lightheaded, in a good way.

“So? How do you feel?”

“Weird,” I repeat, then I start to giggle. “Frank Iero just asked me how I feel.” Like, what the fuck is going on right now?

Frank smirks. “Don’t get used to it. And give it back now,” he adds as I help myself to another drag.

I hand it back to him and wander back to my bed in a dream-like state. The room is silent as I lay on top of my covers with the light on for several minutes, not wanting to move or speak, just feeling the fuzzy sensation in my head and body.

“I’m sorry, Gerard,” Frank’s voice drifts across the room to me, and I blink my eyes open to find him looking at me. “I’ve been a bit of a dick to you for a while now.”

“A bit of a dick?” I repeat, then I start to laugh again because that was the understatement of the century. “Dude, you’ve made my life hell.”

This isn’t funny, why am I laughing, damn it?

“I didn’t realise you took any notice of what I said or did,” he shrugs, without looking at me, and suddenly I’m not laughing anymore.

“You thought being bullied for the last three years didn’t affect me at all?” I respond in disbelief.

He studies my face again as he takes a long drag.

“You’re good at hiding shit. It became almost a challenge to try and get a reaction out of you,” he says slowly, looking confused by his own irrationality.

“Well,” I take a deep breath, “You got one today, didn’t you?”

Unspoken words and images of me in the bathroom earlier fill the silence between us.

“You did that because of me?” he eventually asks, stubbing out his spliff in his ashtray on the floor.

I don’t want to confirm nor deny this, so I just shrug. “Does it matter?”

“Yeah. It does.” He looks a bit lost in his own thoughts. “It really fucking does.”

This is not the answer I was expecting from him. The consequences of his actions can’t matter to him, or he wouldn’t do half the shit he does.

“Alright. Yes, I hurt myself today because you hurt me at school earlier,” I state it so bluntly we both have no idea what to say after.

I can't see him losing sleep over this newfound revelation. He probably gets off on the idea. 

The silence is heavy, but my mind is empty. I roll over and turn off the light, plunging the room into darkness once more. So much for never mentioning the bathroom incident ever again.


	8. Mr Harris

**POV: Frank**

It cannot be later than 5am when Gerard switches the bedroom light on and I jerk awake. I groan at the attack on my eyes.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

My pillow is on the floor for some reason; I grab it and plant it on my head. This is the rudest awakening I have ever had and I don’t think I slept at all last night.

“What? It’s 7:30. Time to get up,” is his reply.

There’s a knock on the basement door. Does no one in this fucking household use the snooze button?

“Come in,” Gerard calls. Slow footsteps creak on the stairs. “Mikey? What’s up?”

“It’s over with me and Kim,” Mikey replies. I think of the photo of Kim and feel a pang of guilt. I still haven’t found out who the hacker was, and yet I get the feeling Matty and James know something I don’t.

“Oh, Mikey. What happened, bro?”

“She dumped me. For James McColl.”

I sit up so fast the pillow flies off my head and I nearly bounce off my blow-up bed. _“What?”_

Kim and James are together? I knew he liked her, but I didn’t think the sly motherfucker would make a move.

“I figured you already knew,” Mikey says at me. Why the fuck did I NOT know that? “Do you happen to know who leaked the naked picture?”

“No. Sorry. I’ll ask around today,” I answer, my mind sifting through all the possible suspects. I have this sneaking suspicion it was James, which would be pretty fucked up.

“I’m sorry, Mikey, I know how much you liked her.” Gerard pulls his brother in for an awkward one-armed hug. I get the feeling they don’t hug much, but no judgment here, I don’t hug people either.

“Can I walk in with you guys?” Mikey asks. Do him and Gerard not normally walk in together?

“I don’t walk,” I shake my head. The Way brothers stare at me like I’m a great annoyance, which I do not care for and I find myself saying, “I’ll drive us in.”

“You want to drive us,” Gerard repeats flatly.

“That would be great, dude, thanks,” Mikey accepts like a normal person.

It’s probably the least I can do to make up for the fact my mate humiliated then stole this kid’s girlfriend.

*

Half an hour later, me and Mikey are ready to roll, but Gerard is wearing a knitted off-the-shoulder top with short, wide sleeves. I stop him at the front door.

“No way are you getting in my car wearing that.” I have never seen anything so weird.

“But I like ponchos,” Gerard whines.

“Well I like my reputation, and you’re not ruining it by arriving at school with me in a PONCHO.” Seriously, is he taking the piss right now? This is the perfect opportunity for him to gain some social status and respect at our school, and he’s ruining it before we even leave the house.

He looks so gormless and time is getting on.

“Oh for fuck sake, wear this,” I snap, taking off my blue and yellow bomber jacket and throwing it at him. “I haven’t worn it in years, no one will know it’s mine.”

“Won’t you be cold?” he asks, like a weirdo. It’s the height of spring, I think I’ll be fine in a t-shirt and jeans.

“No." I adjust my baseball cap. "Put it on, let’s go.”

Gerard mutters something under his breath as he pulls the jacket on and follows me out the front door. He slinks into the back seat and Mikey jumps into the front.

The traffic is worse than usual. I realise we’re going to arrive late together, which is not the one. Matty and James are going to crack a rib laughing. And I’m giving Mikey Way a lift; the new happy couple will think I’ve chosen to side with him, when I haven’t actually decided whose side I’m on yet.

We are only fifteen minutes late for school, which is not bad by my standards. Mikey thanks me for the lift and does that impressive disappearing act of his. Gerard gets out, nods curtly at me, then rushes off to English. Despite my initial panic at the idea of us arriving together, I catch up to him.

“What is this, a race?”

“Didn’t think you’d wanna walk in together,” he frowns at me.

“What, like the fact we live together is a dirty little secret?”

“It isn’t?” He sounds genuinely surprised. “Huh. I’m guessing everyone thinks it’s super cool?”

There's a slight grin on my face. “Just as much as we do.”

Fuck what everyone thinks. I am the one who put the target on Gerard’s back at this school, and now I’m taking it off.

**POV: Gerard**

Why is Frank Iero being civil with me? Why did he give me a lift this morning and want to walk in with me? Why am I wearing his goddamn jacket? 

Our peers look dumbfounded as me and Frank walk in one after the other to take our seats, ironically next to each other at the back. Mr Harris paired us up at the start of the year, since I’m top of the class and Frank is disruptive and, well, failing. He never usually comes to this class. Mr Harris looks just as disappointed in me for being late as I feel in myself. I’m never late. I’m never even not the first one here, since me, Ray and Bob generally hang out in the classrooms at break playing chess.

I get out our homework assignment before I sit down, which Frank of course has something to say about. “Might as well run up front now and put it in Harris’ ass,” he mutters, but I think everyone hears.

People are exchanging looks and glancing over their shoulders at us. We might as well be on television right now. Matty is straight up glaring at me across the room with a look of disgust that isn’t normal.

“How about instead of talking about my ass, Mr Iero, you explain where you’ve been since the start of term?” Mr Harris speaks loudly over the growing murmurs.

Frank smirks. It’s like a nervous reflex of his. “I had some errands. Journeys to take, places to be. You know how it is." Smooth-talking git. He literally does not feel shame or embarrassment.

“How very amusing.” Harris is deadpan. “I suggest you catch up on what you’ve missed by borrowing Gerard’s notes.”

“Yes, sir,” Frank salutes him and I snort but disguise it as a cough.

“I want your Romeo and Juliet essay on my desk by Friday,” Harris continues, “And I will be speaking to the school counsellor on your behalf.”

Christ, Harris isn’t here to mess about, is he?

Frank’s whole body seems to tense beside me. Even his fists clench. No jokey comebacks this time, in fact his jaw is clamped shut. I look at him a bit wide-eyed, like _what, you’re gonna punch the teacher now, are you?!_ He looks mad as hell and I fear he is going to erupt here. He shouldn’t get suspended over something so dumb.

“Dude, chill,” I mutter, only loud enough for him to hear because Harris has gone back to droning on about our approaching exams. “I’ll help you with the essay.”

His pointed eyes flick to me and I raise my eyebrows.

“This is bullshit,” he grunts, but his glare softens and his ‘fight or flight’ mode visibly starts to deactivate because he slumps back in his chair.


	9. The Tutor

**POV: Frank**

Mr Harris holds me back after class to hammer into my head the fact that I’m failing English. No shit, dude, I haven’t been here. Fuck Romeo and Juliet, everyone acts like that play is the greatest love story of all time but it’s actually twisted. Like, why so fucking impulsive Romeo? Take a breather, not a sip of death. I really want to knock those glasses off Harris’ square head, but I hold my composure and grunt a response about getting a private tutor, just to shut him up.

I meet Matty and the guys behind the bike shed, as usual. Lydia is there too, instead of at cheerleading practice which has been oh-so-crucial this past week.

“Hey,” I greet her a bit awkwardly, caught off-guard. She’s been ignoring my messages and now suddenly here she is.

“Oh, hey Frank,” she half-waves, just as awkwardly. What the fuck is going on with us? “I was just talking to Matty about our Biology homework.”

“Right,” I nod. Biology is next and they are lab partners, much to my unjustified frustration. “Uh, can we talk?” I ask, jerking my head in the opposite direction. Things are tense and I need to clear the air, but I’d rather not do it with four guys gawking at us.

“Actually, I’ve got to run. Kim’s probably looking for me,” she says quickly, but she comes over and gives me a quick peck on the cheek. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

_Will you, though?_

“Oh, yeah. Okay,” I frown.

I want to ask her if she’s mad at me, because why else would she be ignoring me? But the fact that she just kissed me on the cheek like nothing is even going on confuses the shit out of me.

“Bye guys,” she waves, specifically to Matty.

“Later, Lyds,” he replies, and she struts off.

“Did you just say _Lyds?”_ I force a smirk, trying to make light of the moment and act like I’m okay with this new nickname he’s never used before.

“Oh, shut up,” he dismisses, a bit too quickly. “It just came out.”

“Okay, Matts.” I put on a girly voice and hold my hands up in mock-surrender.

I feel oddly uncomfortable and decide now is a good time for a cigarette. James watches me like a hawk as I light up.

“Yes?” I raise my eyebrows at him.

“Have you thought about our proposal? You know, with Eugene?”

Ah yes, thanks for narrowing it down, I’ve had many proposals this week. I love how it’s suddenly ‘OUR’ proposal... James is gay for Matty, I swear.

“Yes,” I confirm, being intentionally vague to wind him up.

_“And?”_

The truth is, I really have been thinking about it. Probably not in the way they want me too - I still think the ultimate goal is unnecessarily cruel and not something I plan to enact, but I think having Gerard on my side could have its benefits. For one, he can be my tutor and get Harris off my case. Plus, we live together. And I hate to admit it, even to myself, but he actually seems… alright.

“We move forward with the plan,” I announce. “I’ll speak to him tonight, get him on side.”

I sound very confident but I don’t feel it. Why the hell would Gerard want to hang out with the kids that have been bullying him for years? Convincing him to trust me is going to be near impossible. 

*

Biology is just as thrilling as chapter 7 of Romeo and Juliet. Gok can barely contain his excitement at the dead frog he gets to dissect, and I sit back and scroll through my phone, living vicariously through Instagram.

“Frank, hi. Sorry, I need to make sure of something,” Gok suddenly puts down the forceps.

“Yes?” I respond without looking away from my phone. I really know nothing about dissecting frogs, dude, don’t ask me.

“I fear being blamed,” he drops his voice to a whisper. My interest spikes. “No one knows about the photo?”

I lower my phone and glance sideways at him. He looks overly concerned.

_Help me out here, dude._ “What photo?”

Confusion takes his expression and he studies my face as if I’M the one talking in riddles here. Then he smiles widely and nods. “Ah, yes! Exactly. Okay.”

“Man, what are you talking about?” I don’t appreciate being left out of this private joke Gok appears to have going with himself.

“I won’t tell either, Frank.” The dude WINKS at me. “Do not worry.”

Why would I worry? _About what?_ What the fuck is wrong with him?

“Whatever, dude. I’m gonna go pee.”

I get up abruptly. Mr Oslow is asleep at his desk, as usual, so I make a B-line for Matty and Lydia at the back of the class.

“Gok is creeping me out,” I inform them, interrupting whatever is so funny and cracking them both up. My curiosity gets the best of me. “What’s the joke?”

“Just laughing at Oslow,” Matty shrugs. I don’t buy it.

I stare at Lydia but she doesn’t make eye contact, just scribbles furiously on her blank paper like she’s suddenly a biology expert.

“Right. Someone should throw a frog at his head, that’ll wake him up,” I grunt.

“On it,” James chips in, from the table in front.

I was joking but without a second’s hesitation, he sends a dead frog flying across the room and misses Oslow’s head by a mile. Everyone falls about laughing, except me who shudders visibly, and Gerard who I catch rolling his eyes.

“I’m gonna pee,” I declare once again, over the laughter, and this time I actually leave.

I take my bag because I don’t intend to return. School is too much today, fuck it, I need a spliff.

*

**POV: Gerard**

Frank is so blazed by the time I get home, I can barely see him through the smoke in the basement, but I can hear him snoring and mumbling in his sleep. It is 4:22pm. I have a strange admiration for his dedication to ignore the real world and his responsibilities. I fire up my laptop and assume my a slouched position on the sofa, ready to escape reality in my own preferred way.

“Don’t,” Frank says so suddenly and so clearly it makes me jump.

One look tells me he’s still fast asleep. I catch a few more words like “No, stop” and “please” and get a horrible crawling sensation in my skin. My heart gets quicker as I watch him for the next minute, transfixed. His face and body is contorting in protest and then he makes a distinct whimper.

I can’t watch this. I push my laptop aside and go to his side. Sweat is dripping from his hair, literally drenching his pillow. I am wary as I bend down and tap him on the shoulder. When he doesn’t stir I grip his shoulder tighter and shake him slightly. 

“Wha-?” his soulless eyes snap open and take me in. I straighten up and stand back in case he reacts like, well, Frank.

“You were having a bad dream,” I explain.

He touches a hand to his wet head and his pale face flushes red.

“Christ,” he mutters, and I can tell by his disturbed look he is replaying the dream in his mind.

“Are you… okay?” I ask hesitantly. I want to ask what he was dreaming about, but I sense that I shouldn’t. Dreams are personal.

“Yeah,” he responds automatically, snapping out of whatever his mind is tormenting him with.

I keep staring even as he pulls his shirt off and uses it to mop his sweat up with. How can a guy who just lays around smoking weed have such defined abs? This guy is full of secrets, man.

“What time is it?”

“4:30,” I answer. I force my eyes away from his bare chest and begin to retreat to my side of the room where I can play Warcraft in peace now.

“Hey, I need to ask you something.” He reappears from under his shirt and shake his hair back into place. “It’s a bit awkward, mind.”

Oh, I’m sure it is. Awkward is the definition of us.

“Great. Roll us a spliff, will you?”

His eyes light up at the suggestion and he pulls his gear onto his lap.

“So, I’m failing English,” he states proudly.

“Shocking.”

“And Harris says I need a tutor.” _Oh, for fuck sake._ “And I know we aren’t exactly best buds, but you’re a clever motherfucker.” He refuses to look at me as he talks and just focuses on rolling.

I feel a weird sense of satisfaction. “Are you asking for my help?”

_Come on, Frankie, don’t be shy. Just say it._

“Well, no, I mean - Harris thinks I’m too dumb to spell my own name right. I’m smarter than he thinks and I don’t NEED a tutor. I just need him to _think_ I’ve got one so he’ll get off my back.“

“So… you need my help,” I clarify smugly.

“I need your help lying to Harris that you’re tutoring me, yes.”

“Not with the actual work?”

He pauses rolling and glares at me. “You really want to be my tutor, don’t you?”

“Don’t turn this round on me, Iero,” I scoff. “ _You_ want _my_ help catching up on what you’ve missed. Just admit it!”

Switching up our roles and watching him trying to squirm away from responsibility is fun.

“Alright, simmer down.” He rolls his eyes and licks along the rizzla. “Can you help me or not?”

“Yeah, I said I would earlier, didn’t I?” I literally told him I’d help with his essay in class earlier, so this whole conversation was a bit unnecessary really.

“Well, yeah, but I thought that was just a throwaway comment in the moment. I didn’t think you actually meant it.”

“We’ll start tomorrow. I’ve had enough of school today.” I sit down cross-legged on the floor next to his make-shift bed.

He cocks an eyebrow at my eagerness and smirks, “Glad we're on the same page right now with school and weed."


	10. Burning Bridges

**POV: Gerard**

“So, how are the lads?” I ask Frank in a mocking tone, when we’re halfway through the spliff.

Smoking lowers my inhibitions and no topic is off-limits as far as my stoned brain is concerned.

“They’re doing my head in. So is Lydia. I feel like everyone is in on something I’m not, you know?”

I blink at him, taken aback by his honesty. Weed lowers his walls too, apparently.

“You’re probably just being paranoid. Should smoke less weed,” I point out like a smart-ass, then I ponder his friendship group and girlfriend for a second. They are not good people. “Matty and Lydia seem a bit friendly all of a sudden, don’t they?” I wonder out loud.

Frank drops the spliff and narrowly avoids setting fire to his duvet. It takes this reaction for me to realise the full extent of what I’ve just said and now the casual accusation is just hanging in the tense air between us. 

“What do you mean?”

Oh, Jesus. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes that those two are screwing around. They’re suddenly inseparable. No point in me trying to tell Frank though, it'll be like trying to convince him he's actually a dog. He won't be able to see things from another perspective and he’ll go totally nuts. 

“They just seem to hang out a lot these days,” I attempt to enlighten him. 

“Oh.” He fixates on the spliff and looks like he’s trying to solve a math problem. “Yeah, they do, don’t they?”

Huh. This is not the first time he’s thought this.

We both fall silent and shuffle uncomfortably in our seats; me on the floor next to him on his blow-up bed. Reality suddenly seems to be glaring me in the face and I feel uneasy. Like I should be maintaining my distance from Frank, not lowering my guard like this. But I can’t figure him out. Is he dangerous and unstable, or just… sad?

“I’m sure it’s nothing, but hey, you could bring it up in a jokey way and see how they react,” I suggest.

“I might just do that.”

He starts to cough dramatically and without even thinking what I’m doing, I am clapping a hand to his back trying to help. He raises his eyebrows at me and I shrink back to my cross-legged position on the floor. He grins. I chuckle awkwardly and then he starts laughing too. Next thing you know, neither of us can breathe because we’re having a laughing fit.

“I had the weirdest conversation with Gok in biology today,” he suddenly remembers.

I’m not a fan of Gok since he tripped me in the cafeteria that time. He betrayed his own kind, _nerds and losers,_ for a shot at popularity with Frank.

“ _You_ had a conversation with Gok?” That’s out-of-character for Frank. “Check you out, bonding with all us losers today.”

“Well, he’s my lab partner. He’s not all there though, is he? Like, mentally. He was talking to me like I knew what he was going on about... Something about not wanting me to blame him for a photo?” He throws his hands up in bewilderment.

I snort. “Well, did you ask him to clarify?"

“Yes. I said ‘what photo’ and he said ‘exactly.’”

“Hm. That’s a thinker.”

An extended silence ensues while we both try to figure out the da vinci code that is Gok’s mind. Frank suddenly sits up straighter and leans forward.

“Do you think he’s talking about the photo of Kim?" _Oh shit, that would make some kind of sense_. "But why would he think I blame _him_ for that?”

I find myself leaning in too, my detective-brain coming alive with curiosity. 

“Hmm. Maybe he’s shit-scared you’re gonna find some reason to blame him for it and alienate him from our entire year?”

“I would never do that,” he scoffs, and it takes a moment for his words to fully sink in and then I nearly choke on my own saliva.

I gesture dramatically at myself, up and down, and raise my eyebrows at him. Like, is he for fucking real? _Welcome to the reality YOU created for ME._

“What?” he frowns.

“What do you mean _what?”_ Exasperation is my only emotion right now. “You would definitely do that! You turned everyone against me and got me alienated from the entire year.” Let's be honest here, shall we?

He looks stunned by my words. Not mad or amused, just surprised.

“No, I haven’t? I was just messing with you, man. No one actually hates you, don’t be so dramatic. And we get on fine now, don’t we?”

“Right now, in this exact moment, perhaps,” I nod, eyes still wide in disbelief. “What about around your friends at school tomorrow? Will things be cool with us then? Just so I know.”

I'd like to know in advance so I can prepare myself for his volatile mood swings.

“Man, you act like I’m a loose cannon. I _can_ control myself,” he scoffs. My face obviously says it all because he keeps going with his current brainwave of delusional positivity. “What? I mean it. Hell, I’ll prove it. Let’s all hang out tomorrow!"

Who the flying fuck is 'all' of us?

“Quit yanking me.”

“I’m not _yanking_ you,” he holds his hand up and grimaces. “Do you wanna hang out with me and the lads or not?”

“Oh, well, why not? Me, you, Bob, Ray, Matty and James are practically brothers.” 

“Bob and Ray are not invited,” he informs with a nonchalant shrug, seeming to completely miss my sarcasm.

Right. Because Bob and Ray are “losers” in his eyes and not worth his time or respect. Unbelievable.

“Oh _, please_ can my real friends come and sit with me at my new friends’ table,” I beg, again sarcastically, and get to my feet. “What is this, High School Musical?”

His eyes darken and for a moment I think he’s going to stand up and square up to me, but he stays lying there and just shakes his head, looking away as he smirks in that classic Iero fashion. _Ah, he's back._

“Well _excuse me_ for trying to be friendly.”

I rub my eyes. I’m getting a headache trying to understand his backwards brain processes.

“Niceness with no agenda is not in your nature, Frank. Can you blame me for feeling a bit caught off-guard here?” God, join me at this level, _please._ Recognise how ludicrous you sound.

“You don’t know shit about my ‘nature’ or agenda. I actually want to help you.” No, okay, we’re on totally different pages here. “I can see you’re miserable and thought you might want to transform your reputation at our school, but okay, if you want to keep being hated and ignored every day then you carry on. Don’t let me ruin that good thing you have going for you.”

He's such an obnoxious little prick.

“Transform my reputation? Oh my god, are you fucking…“ _High? Yes, he is, clearly._ “YOU are the one that gave me this dead-beat reputation, Iero. _I_ should be the one transforming _you_.”

Why is it so hard for him to take any kind of responsibility? He has the power to ‘transform’ me by changing HIMSELF and being nicer to me and _everyone._ I’ve got good friends and grades and I like my life how it is, for the most part. He is failing school and has fake friends, a fake girlfriend, a fake persona… and he doesn't have a clue. He needs _professional help._

“I’m going for a walk,” I announce. I need to talk to my real, sane friends and hear what they make of this absurdity.

“Off you fuck, then,” he waves me off, happily stoned and ignorant.

_Yeah that's it, Frank, you put those walls back up and keep them up. I'm staying out from now on._


	11. The Pact

**POV: Gerard**

I message Bob and Ray to meet me at the skate park. This is our usual hang-out because it’s an equal distance for all of us. I did used to have them over in my basement, but that’s no longer an option. I may have to tolerate Frank, but they definitely don’t, and Frank just made his opinion on _them_ very clear. The hate is mutual.

Skateboard wheels on metal halfpipes sound absurdly loud this evening, as I fill the guys in on everything. I crave the fresh air rushing past me and my heart pounding, but I didn’t bring my board with me tonight, there is too much to discuss.

“Let me get this straight,” Bob begins.

“Yeah, I am not getting this,” Ray says.

“You’re telling us that _narcissist_ asked you, Eugene the loser-“

“Thanks.”

“-to join his pretty-boy cool gang?”

“Well… yes, if you wanna put it that way.”

“What do you think his motive is?” Ray asks, scratching his head.

“He reckons he can improve my life by ‘transforming’ me,” I use air-quotes and roll my eyes.

“What a load of bollocks!” Bob has such a way with words.

“Yeah, I’m not buying it. I reckon his ultimate goal is to _somehow_ ruin my life.”

This is Frank we are talking about, after all. He gets his sick kicks tormenting me. How can I believe a word he says? I feel like I know him better than he knows himself. That’s not because he’s such an open book and tells me absolutely anything of substance, it’s because he is totally closed off from everyone and everything, including himself. He literally doesn’t know _himself_ and that’s sad. There is no helping someone like that, with zero self-awareness.

“Yeah, it’s got to be a trap. Not that you’re not a cool guy who is worthy of his friendship… it’s the other way round. You’re too good for him,” Ray offers.

On some level, those words are hard for me to accept. I’ve been told so many times, both physically and verbally, I’m worth less than Frank and just about every other fucker at our school, so deep down I can’t help but believe that.

“You know what you should do,” Bob gasps, startling me. Bob doesn’t become animated often. “You should mess with him right back!”

Me and Ray stare at him blankly, not embracing his newfound energy. 

“Listen, okay… Accept his offer. Go hang out with him and his egotistic cronies. Get the dirt on _them_ and expose their true colours to the school. You’d be a hero! Like, not only would you end the torment they put _you_ through, you could change things for all of us other peasants too! You’re the underdog - someone we can back as you stand up to the monarchy.”

I laugh uncertainly, not letting his words register as a serious suggestion because, well, it’s Bob. He’s joking.

Ray claps his hands together. “That’s a great idea! And while we’re at it, why don’t we write Gerard’s will?”

“Nothing like death-anxiety to piss all over a kid's dream,” Bob grumbles.

“Well I think that pipe-dream is a bit too out there, y’know? Gerard can’t be engaging in mind games with Ted Bundy Junior.”

I do quite enjoy how peaceful my life is when Frank isn’t involved. The thing is, there’s no escape from him anymore. I feel like I’ve got to do something, because I can’t go back to our previous 'bully and victim' dynamic. The opportunity I have right now to switch up those roles is wildly tempting.

“I guess. Look at what he did to Mikey’s ex,” Bob sighs.

This comment snaps me out of my circling thoughts and back to reality.

“What?”

“The photo?”

“What?” I repeat, looking between them both with an increasingly frantic energy. “You think he leaked it?”

“Yeah. I overheard Matty and James talking about it in Math class yesterday,” Bob shrugs.

“What, they literally _said_ it was Frank?”

“Yes! Jesus, what is your deal?”

“They must be lying. Frank’s been going mad trying to find out who leaked that photo, it can’t be him... Besides, he wouldn’t know how to hack a phone, that’s next level tech skills.”

“Well, no shit,” Bob scoffs. “Gok helped him, apparently.”

This new information shatters my denial. Just like that, it all makes sense. _That’s_ what Gok was talking to him about yesterday. Fuck me, Frank is creepily good at acting clueless...

“Holy shit,” I mumble, resting my suddenly-heavy head on my hand. “That’s… fucked up. He totally ruined Mikey’s relationship.”

Part of me was starting to think there was some good in Frank deep down that just needed freeing. Maybe I just wanted to believe no one can be entirely ‘bad’. But he was lying to me, the whole time.

“HE is fucked up. Hence why your plan sucks,” Ray informs Bob.

“No, it’s a genius plan,” I argue. “If I don’t let my guard down, I can't get hurt, can I? I’ll just play him at his own game and pretend.”

“Oh, Lord.” Ray puts his head in his hands.

“You’ve got the upper hand,” Bob encourages.

I take a deep breath and I can feel the decision being made, beyond my consciousness.

“You guys will stick by me if I do this?”

Bob is the bravery I need and Ray is the brains.

“Of course, Gee,” Bob nods and puts his hand forward to signify the start of a new pact. I follow suit. 

“Oh fuck it. Let's do it." Ray throws his hand in too and the binding contact is put in place. "I think we should target his precious army of morons first. Should be easy enough to break them apart with the truth since Matty and Lydia are blatantly fucking each other,” Ray rambles, switching gears very abruptly.

The resentment I have for Frank and his mates is all-consuming. Revenge isn’t normally in my nature, but they have literally made my life a living hell for years. Frank can believe he's going to 'transform' me, but he's not. I'm going to transform _him_ by forcing him into the real world, finally.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I started writing over 10 years ago and posted on Mibba under the username xChemicalLovex. Recently, I have gotten back into writing again and I realised I really loved telling this story, and it's a shame I never finished it. I just lost my passion for life/writing back then. So 10 years on, this story is restarting - with the same plot and characters, but a different (and hopefully much-improved) dialogue and style of writing! I hope you enjoy (and I'm very sorry if you were a former reader of this when I disappeared) xo


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